


time is a game played beautifully

by Thesilmarillion



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Child Loss (mentions), Class Differences, Class Issues explored, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hobbit History & Lore, Lobelia has a redemption arc, Political Alliances, Slow Burn, The Shire, Time Travel Fix-It, Worldbuilding, Young Bilbo Baggins, gender roles are equal in the shire so lobelia is a conniving BAMF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesilmarillion/pseuds/Thesilmarillion
Summary: In the spring of 1420 by the Shire Reckoning, weeks before Sam Gamgee and Rosie Cotton’s wedding was to happen, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins slipped away peacefully.Then in 1308 by the Shire Reckoning, Lobelia Bracegirdle woke up in her tween body, but years before her birth should have been, with all the memories of her adult life.or; a slightly cracky attempt at world building, where after Sauron and Saruman's destruction Lobelia realises all that can be lost in a broken Shire, and come hell or high water she'll be damned if she doesn't try to fix it.





	1. Part one: Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. I don't know why I sat down to plan then write it, but I did. Enjoy it
> 
> In the books, saruman lives long enough after two towers to ravage the shire and torment the hobbits under the false name sharkey efore the fellowship return home - notably, Lobelia attacks him and some of his men with an umbrella and is imprisoned.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was a gentlehobbit. She had been a Bracegirdle, then later a Sackville-Baggins. All in all, thoroughly proper. Most Hobbits were aware of their status, of others, and how to gain more. Lobelia especially. Otho had brought security, elevation and when they felt more close, sometimes love. Lobelia was not necessarily unhappy in her marriage despite the lack of love match. She had all she could want for, before Sharkey had come. Otho had been a truly Hobbitish husband, had loved his wife and child as much as any other good Hobbit would and did, had celebrated in the simple things. But while there was no traceable Took blood in her family (the Boffins and Bracegirdles were an upstanding and very proper Hobbit family thank you very much) there was a longing for something more.  Standing up to Sharkey, to behave in such an improper way but yet what was the right choice, was exhilarating. The fallen wizard and his orcs had destroyed the fertile land while Gandalf and Frodo and those chaotic hobbits went gallivanting off into the east for a ring. Lobelia wasn't sure on the details, but she'd bet her smial Saruman's appearance as Sharkey was because of Gandalf. Wizards never brought anything good to the Shire.

Shire propriety be damned, when good Hobbit folks needed a voice. Despite her age, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins would defend her family friends and neighbours, umbrella in hand in a thoroughly Bilbo Baggins move. There were better things to covet than good manners, when hearth and home was under attack.

And then Lotho had died at the hands of the orcs, and Lobelia was left without her husband or son. The established home she had worked so long on, the family she had crafted and raised with her own hands razed to the ground by that blasted wizard. Her neighbours, her friends had been overlooked all for the perfect family she had lost within months. Only just past one hundred years of age, Lobelia passed away from a spring illness, longing for her Otho and Lotho. In that last hour when her sight went and the voices of the family around her faded from hearing, Lobelia cursed her shortsightedness on what she had viewed as a respectable Hobbit. In the spring of 1420 by the Shire Reckoning, weeks before Sam Gamgee and Rosie Cotton’s wedding was to happen, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins slipped away peacefully.

 

Then in 1308 by the Shire Reckoning, Lobelia Bracegirdle woke up in her tween body, but still years before her birth should have been, with all the memories of her adult life before. Lobelia Bracegirdle was in no uncertain terms, annoyed. 


	2. Part One: Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia has to adjust to being a Bracegirdle and a child again. She must also reconcile herself with the immediate changes from her first childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though there is technically a shire calendar with its own names for months, for simplicity I'm going to use our standard calendar to save confusion. After this chapter, I'll be adding the season and year (shire reckoning and third age versions) to the start of each chapter or section.

TA 2908 / SR 1308 

In a room under the ground, a young hobbit lass woke up in her bed. The child’s bedroom was quite normal, with wooden beams and panelling, dainty paintings of meadows and lakes spread across the walls between them. All in all, it was not the bedroom Lobelia had expected to wake up in. Gone were the delicate but modern sheets of wallpaper climbing up the walls of the Bracegirdle guest room, the lilac curtains that were drawn across the small smial window. Instead, it was the nursery that had held her and her brother almost a century ago. As she peeled back the duvet and comforter Lobelia noticed the small dainty hands grasping it. No wrinkles or liver spots, no scars from Sharkey’s beatings. No calloused pads from decades of running a house and home. Those were the hands of a young hobbit. Those hands began to shake.

Yet Lobelia would not let this stop her. Evidently, something had happened. And she may have once been a Sackville-Baggins, but she was born a Bracegirdle, headstrong and controlled. Yes, she would get dressed, then face the day to investigate. She needed answers, but she would not go in headfirst like some jumped up Brandybuck. Looking out the window, she saw it was still early and not too past dawn, though the sun was shining brightly already. A simple day dress would do, she supposed. It wouldn’t do to be overheated or overdressed while making her enquiries.

On opening the wardrobe, Lobelia almost screamed. Gone were the refined styles she was used to - thought she reminded herself she was no longer a Baggins, no longer a grown hobbit lass so it was to be expected. Instead were the frumpy, bunched dresses and pinafores she remembered from her youth. And the lace on them! The wide pieces were so horribly old fashioned to her (yet only mere months behind the times, in reality. Primrose Bracegirdle aimed to give her daughter the best, even if it was a little late.) she grabbed her undergarments from the chest of drawers, and dressed quickly in a plain yellow dress with a pinafore on top. At least the mellow dress would go well with her tanned skin and dark brown hair. The polished mirror in the corner of the room did nothing but emphasise her youth. Lobelia looked eight, maybe up to eleven years. Not even a tween yet, but barely out of her infancy! How demeaning it was for a grown lady like her. Was this punishment? Had she been cast into some alternate wasteland to relive her life? Perhaps this was a chance to restart, to change things like Otho, and dear Lotho.

Steeling herself for her boisterous brother and fussing mother, Lobelia stepped out of her room and headed to the dining room at the front of their smial. As she moved towards the smells of the kitchen, two hands wrapped around her waist and swung her around. Without hesitating, Lobelia screamed as loud as she could.

The figure holding her chuckled as he placed her down.

‘Why Lia, what’s got ye in a fright?’ Blanco Bracegirdle was still holding her sides, as Lobelia suddenly hugged her father, sniffling into his trouser leg. It had been seventy years since she had last seen him, Blanco having died quite suddenly in his sleep, just as Lobelia came of age. Lobelia was not above a little cry over the father she had loved and lost.

Blanco gently lifted her up into his arms, and drew her close. ‘Now what’s all this ‘bout, young one? Any more tears and you’ll miss yon breakfast.’

Little Lobelia drew herself back, and tried to smile at her father. ‘Missed you, is all. Had a nightmare.’ Better for him to think her a skittish child, and play along with this mad dream. 

Blanco smiled endearingly at his daughter, and held her as he walked to the dining room. ‘Well, ye Ma can put a tad more honey in t’e porridge, and we’ll cheer you up soon enough.’

Well, Lobelia may not have truly been a child, but she wouldn’t turn down honey porridge.

As Blanco turned to grab the bowls, Lobelia saw the calendar next to the cabinet. She felt herself pale and be unable to breathe. It couldn’t be. But the calendar read the second of March, 1308. By all rights, Lobelia shouldn’t exist for another ten years. She would now have to suffer the Fell Winter. She would be mere years younger than Bilbo, or her cousin Jessamine. Was her birthday even the same? Would she still be giving gifts in a few scant weeks? For every answer given to Lobelia, three more questions appeared.

Primrose Bracegirdle entered the room, humming as she moved around the dining table. Stray strands of her simple braid bounced round her laughing face, as a young child tugged on one of the curly locks that had come loose. Was this Bruno, Lobelia wondered? Her elder brother by five years, though he wasn’t born for another five yet. She had never suffered a more confusing breakfast before.

Her mother stared at her, a shocked look across her face.

‘Why Lobelia, look at you! How have you managed to braid your hair so, what a clever girl.’

Preening from the praise her mother gave, she supposed she shouldn’t be able to comb and braid so well as young as she seemed to be. No matter, Lobelia would not give up her cleanliness and appearance for pretense.

Mechanically, she ate her porridge before clearing the bowl off the table towards the kitchen. What was going on, that so much had changed in this strange past, and was Lobelia able to change things herself? Perhaps she would talk to Gandalf when he next came to the Shire. Though, Lobelia was loathe to trust another wizard after Sharkey. There was always an underlying agenda or plan beneath their condescending smiles. Hobbits saw more than adventures and fireworks beneath that Gandalf’s blasted beard. There was a reason he was a disturber of the peace. No, Lobelia would have to look elsewhere.

Who was the man Frodo had mentioned in the Old Forest, the Old Bombadil? The mysterious man could control the forest, perhaps he’d know what power had brought her back. Though, Lobelia was not an adventurer, and travelling east while crossing the Brandywine was certainly an adventure to make. She would have to plan it, so as to not cause trouble or frighten anyone by a disappearing act. Lobelia Bracegirdle was many things, but she was not hasty or impulsive.

If this shift in time was permanent, then Lobelia could change a great many things. Her own life, yes, but she could save a great many now she was living through the Fell Winter. And perhaps, Sharkey would never happen, or harm her family. It struck her, suddenly, that she would not necessarily have to marry Otho. Even if she did, the likelihood of her little Lotho being born was infinitesimal. There were a great many young Hobbit men available, and she could marry into one of the more influential families to help bring about that change. If, Yavanna forbid, Lobelia could actually marry Bilbo she could shape him for his quest, and use the Baggins name. With her own family came Boffins, Bracegirdles and Bolgers. With Bilbo came the Took, Baggins and by connections the Brandybucks. It was a stretch, but forging a connection with the Baggins - any kind of connection - was her best chance. Perhaps Bilbo was the key to saving her and The Shire. If she could unearth the Tookish streak and Baggins politician in him, then Lobelia would be on the fastest road to making all well again.

Lobelia Bracegirdle was on a mission. The only issue being that Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, was currently a mere seventeen years old. Blast it. She was in it for the long haul, it seemed. 


	3. Part One: Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia meets (or re-meets) important figures of her past. it does not always go so well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short filler chapter because I feel guilty and have the worst writer's block ever

March 15th, TA 2908 / SR 1308

  
The challenge of becoming friends with a young Bilbo was the distance. Though not a far way for an adult hobbit, no faunt could make the journey between Hardbottle and Hobbiton so easily. Hardbottle, though it was where the Bracegirdle’s home had been for many generations, could not hold a candle to the larger town of Hobbiton. In Hobbiton lay the markets where Lobelia would be able to gather connections and resources from the wealthier families. And in Hobbiton stayed the Baggins family. 

It was sheer luck that just less than a fortnight after her appearance in the past that her mother decided to travel to the markets. Sat in the back of their cart, Lobelia tried not to show her excitement too much. It wouldn’t do to draw her mothers attention. It was all Lobelia could do hold her sleeping brother still in her arms as the cart rattled across the dusty Hobbit made roads. That’d be something to add to the list of things to change, she thought absentmindedly.

The list Lobelia had mentally constructed was growing longer by the day. It contained:

  * gaining control over at least part of the Bracegirdle land, and influencing her fathers control so as to prepare for the Fell Winter.
  * Convincing the Old Took to believe her tale and help with preparations (if any hobbit would believe her, it would likely be a Took.)
  * Somehow, convince the Rangers to help increase The Shire’s safety. Maybe even to train the bounders. 
  * Talk to the strange Bombadil man in the forest, and perhaps Gandalf, the meddling old fool. 
  * Befriend and marry Bilbo Baggins, and gain influence enough to save the Shire before all went to pot.



 

All in all, it was only a little more than the schemes a self respecting Shirewife came up with over afternoon tea.   
  


The markets had been busy, even before midday. There were stalls from the Bolger cousins, Clayhangers and Cottons, Noakes and Puddifoots, Whitfoots, Tunnelys and Brownfoots. Hobbits from all over the Shire had come to the market. 

Was this what the Shire was like before the Fell Winter? Before families were broken, lines wiped out? It almost hurt Lobelia too much to think about. No, this is what she wanted to change. And then Lobelia’s heart began to truly break, because in front of her stood the Sackville-Baggins family. Otho was happily walking alongside his mother, a fresh pastry in his mouth and down his wasitcoat. He’d always had a sweet tooth, and had passed it onto Lotho. There he stood, her Otho. Her husband of decades. The father of her child. Lobelia felt so vulnerable, so _old_. His tween body was just a reminder of everything she had lost in her rebirth. By Yavanna, she missed her son. 

Camelia Sackville-Baggins turned to Lobelia, and gave her a tight smile. Ah yes, it was a smile Lobelia knew well. Her hate for Lobelia, and most other hobbits moving in front of those shark like teeth, coming to rest on the tightly strung muscles around her mouth. S true Sackville-Baggins smile, constant reminder that Bracegirdles were still lower class. Lovely. 

‘Hello Miss Bracegirdle. Are we enjoying the markets?’. It was all Lobelia could do to nod silently. How could she talk to Otho and his mother, without thinking of her child, the son she had lost?

‘I suppose your family don’t make it so far to Hobbiton often. You mustn’t see finery like this that often!’ Camelia carried on, reaching towards the fabrics draped across the Noakes stall beside her. ‘Come along Otho! We need to gather more pastries for tomorrows afternoon tea’.

As soon as the Sackville-Baggins turned around the stall and out of sight, Lobelia began to cry, ever so silently. Twice damn her childish body, her hormones and emotions were making her too fragile. She felt a gentle hand upon her shoulder, the charms of the bracelets brushing against her cheek. Above her, was the loving smile of Belladona Baggins.

‘Are we lost, dear Lobelia?’ she asked. 

It struck her how Belladona did not judge her for being a Bracegirdle, nor treated her as if she would break due to her age. 

‘No Missus Baggins. Just looking.’ Came her own high, whispy child voice. 

‘Well, let us wander the markets and look for your mother shall we?’. And with that, Belladona Baggins and Lobelia Bracegirdle strolled through Hobbiton hand in hand. She didn’t quite know it, but this moment would be key to Lobelia’s new life. Here, Belladona and Lobelia would lay the foundation for a steadfast friendship.


	4. Part One: Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, I KNOW its been so long since my last update. In my defence, I'm a final year BA student in my last few weeks of the degree. this summer I'll be writing a lot more, I promise! There's at least 10k planned out and I know where the story is headed. Anyways enjoy! I'll try my best to be more active, heres a little snippet to just forward the story a bit and give you something to look forward to

March 15th, TA 2908 / SR 1308

  
Lobelia was enjoying the markets, despite the run in with Otho and his mother. Belladonna had stopped periodically at stalls to show Lobelia different fabrics and patterns. pointing out a type of stitching, a form of embellishment, trying to make the young girl marvel at the wares and distract her from her tears. It most likely would have worked if she wasn't actually close to one hundred and two, Lobelia mused. Belladonna was good company, and instinctively maternal and caring. Lobelia didn't know Belladonna before, but had heard the stories of the forthright and rebellious hobbit who married up. The stories didn't do the formidable woman justice. 

'Well, miss Lobelia. Whereabouts would you say your mother will be?' 

Glancing up, Belladonna was searching the crowded market with a frown on her face. If Lobelia didn't know better, she'd think she was worried. Nothing terrible happened in Hobbiton. Or if Lobelia had any say, it wouldn't. 

'Prob'ly talking to the farmers, finding out how the sales are going for Da's land.' Confound it all, she was even slipping into the Hardbottle accent. She'd always hated her working class accent, even as a young girl. It was probably for the best that she used it for now. A tween suddenly using Hobbiton Westron, and using correct grammar? It would draw far too much attention. 

Belladonna hadn't noticed, having spied Primrose Bracegirdle frantically moving around the market. All the better. Oh dear, Lobelia's mother looked so worried. The guilt began to rise in her stomach.

'Prim, Primrose!' Belladonna called, as if they were close friends rather than distant acquaintances. No wonder the Shirewives thought her improper! Her mother caught sight of her, and immediately all the fear seemed to leave her body.

'I found her wandering the market, something seemed to have upset Lobelia.' She pretended to ignore the look that passed between the two adults. 

Her mother gave her a stern look, before softening and bending down to look her in the eyes. 'What's upset you so, Lia? You mustn't go wandering off. You'll frighten me half to death'. If asked about it, Lobelia would deny to her dying day that she clung to her mothers legs while starting to sob again. Primrose became more concerned, scooping up her little girl into her arms. 

Lobelia tucked her face into her mothers neck, while sniffling out 'Missus Sackville Baggins.' It was all the explanation Primrose needed, and she placed a soothing hand on Lobelia's back, slowly rubbing it back and forth to help calm her down. 

'Oh dearie me. I think we better call it a day at the market.' with a glance back at Belladonna, Primrose smiled. 'Thank you, Belladonna. You're always welcome at our Smial. It not much, but feel free to bring Bungo and Bilbo if you come to call. Lobelia could do with friends her age.' It was a good thing her face was hidden, as the shock on Lobelia's face would have given the game away. This couldn't have gone better if she tried. 

The ride home was a quiet one, with her mother occasionally telling her about what she had seen at the market, who she had talked to. The inane gossip and stories filled in the silence, and helped to raise Lobelia's spirits. Nothing would ever truly fix the ache in her chest that arose when she thought of Lotho. There was no company, no poultice that could heal the wound left behind by the death of a child. At least before she had been able to talk about Lotho to those that knew him. In this life, in this body she was utterly alone. Lobelia longed to tell someone of all that had happened, if only to have someone understand. A burden shared was a burdened halved, her father said. Perhaps the Old Took would understand, if she were able to convince him of her story. For now, she would have to put on a brave face and be a young daughter to her family, try to relive her childhood while laying the foundations for her plans.

Tuning in to her mothers nattering, something perked her interest. 'Oh, and those farmers Lobelia! They say they don't have enough work to do, would you believe it? That more of your fathers land could be used by them. Hobbits asking for more work! Why, it threw me for a loop.' And her mother let out a titter. Oh, Primrose wasn't being cruel, far from it. But Hobbits weren't known for being innovative or work oriented. It was peculiar, but it gave Lobelia a way of speeding up her plans. At dinnertime, she'd challenge her fathers business plans. If she became peculiar in their eyes, so be it. More crops meant more money and resources, which meant more reputation for her, and support for The Shirefolk. Never let it be said that Lobelia was wholly altruistic. She'd always secretly thought she'd have got along with the dwarves from Bilbo's tales, even if they lacked the manners she possessed. The Bracegirdles were in for a surprise tonight. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, I've based the Hardbottle accent off my own local accent - Cumbrian. A farmers dialect from Northern England, it varies massively and all sorts of people have it - from varying classes, careers, and every town has its own variation. Any cumbrian (esp west cumbrian) reading this - sorry if i fck it up. 
> 
> Google it if you fancy hearing it! we have some great slang too


End file.
